Dream Girl
by drewderps
Summary: AU Eclare; where things are even better than you could dream of.
1. Chapter 1

**First off, I want to thank all the people that have inspired me to write again, whether I talk to you (which I probably don't) or not (most likely), the creative juice no matter how uncreative this plot is, is something that's been flowing through me for a couple weeks. Holland, 1945 never really took to me, or to the readers apparently (however whiny that sounds) and I couldn't really get myself to finish this. However, this is something that I've really been able to bang out a couple chapters at a time, so be ready for an update within the week. Maybe even tomorrow, depending on the reviews. **

**So, thanks to goldsworthys, musiksnob, westcoasttrees, floorplanhobo and many others. I love you. I love writing, and stick with it. **

**It's also really AU, so don't expect like real Clare and Eli, but of course, it's based on them so there will be similarities.**

**I don't own Degrassi, but I do own a Nirvana CD.**

**Also, reviews, favorites and follows help me writing quicker, so please, feel free (:**

* * *

_She appears to him in the doorway of their one bedroom apartment in red and black lace lingerie with sheer black stockings and heels; he knew he was done for. She was so beautiful, and he was speechless. His palms were sweating and he walked over to her, but she wagged her finger, slowly, teasingly, and spoke. "Sit," she demanded, her voice smooth like velvet, and Eli knew from her blushing cheeks, he shouldn't interrupt her. _

_She watched as he sat by the kitchen table, and swayed her hips over to him, leaning before him and watching his eyes trail from her face to her chest, which was placed strategically at eye level. His hands were itching for her, but as music played from behind him, the unnamed girl moved away before he could gather himself fast enough. The beat was slow, and the girl placed her hands on her hips, swaying slowly to the rhythm and letting her hands wander over her body freely as she lost herself in the music. She felt, free, as if she wasn't worried about Eli or shy about him ogling her. Instead, she was putting on the sexiest show for him, and his body was shaking with anticipation._

_He gripped the chair with his hands, his knuckles going white as she slid off the sheer robe that was obviously just for show and letting it fall the ground, leaving her in a red lace bra and matching cheeky underwear, black trim on both garments making her pale skin glow in the dim lighting of their apartment. Was it possible for someone to be innocent when putting on a striptease? Somehow she had achieved it, her hands now skimming over her stomach, her hips swaying in tandem to the beat. Eli watched as her hands moved over her breasts, not missing her subtle squeeze over the mounds of flesh the boy so badly wanted to see._

_She turned, her backside making the boy drool, the way her ass swayed made him so badly want to touch her, but he watched as she teased him further, her hands gliding down the skin of her sides, then disappearing down the front and over her legs, bending down for Eli and letting him catch a good look at her bum, separating her legs and letting her hands wander back from her feet up the inside of her legs, her hand rubbing from her core to her ass and then back to stomach, slowly turning back around for the boy. She moved arms up in the air, closing her eyes and swaying, letting her knees bend and bring her towards the floor before standing straight up, repeating this motion a few more times before resting her hands on her shoulders. Torturously slow, this being pulled one strap of her bra down over her shoulder at a time, her pale skin making Eli drool. But as her hand fell from the fabric that hung on the side of her arm down to her clothed heat, Eli felt his jaw go completely slag and watched this girl in amazement as she touched herself over her laced panties, a jealousy he never knew possible growing in him as she let out a small moan. "Eli," she moaned, her mouth now falling open but no sound coming out. He felt himself becoming almost impossibly hard, his member making him reconsider his choice to wear jeans today, as the tent was now a painful thing for the boy to sport. "Touch me," she breathes._

He wakes in a jolt of pleasure, his body shaking post coital. Of course, the kid's dreaming again. His fingers desperately trying to grab on to the figment of his imagination, this girl, this fucking dream girl but they find nothing. He doesn't know her, but she's been dancing in his dreams for weeks on end. Eli curses the fact that his imagination hasn't come up with name for her, a name for him to scream or even post on fucking Missed Connections on Craigslist. She's been haunting him, and it's like a sign or something, even though Eli hasn't been one for reading dreams. Her and these fucking blue eyes, following him every time he shuts his eyes and Eli can't even be angry. She's so beautiful; something about her is so sexy and tantalizing he moves from his bed before he explodes like the last couple nights.

It's like, every time Eli falls asleep, he's taken to another world, where he isn't this lonely fuck up with hardly any friends or the cigarette addicted rebel child of his parents, but something that this girl, this fucking dream girl, is in love with. The way she looks at him makes his eyes roll back, because no one has ever looked at him like that, not Julia, not any of the countless girls who've tried to pursue him. It's not the look of sarcasm that he was so used to Julia sporting, or the obsessed look Imogen wore around him. This was different, this was love. Or so he thought. He was allowed to be in love with a girl who potentially, and probably, did not exist, right?

* * *

Going to class is essentially the worst part of Eli Goldsworthy's day. That or waking up is, sometimes the kid can't really be sure. No one really bullies him or anything, because he's a fucking nut job, but it's obvious only Adam can put up with him, because he pushes everyone away in the end. He kind of hates himself, but he figures it's the teen angst or bipolar disorder, neither of which he can really control. Eli is that kid who can't fucking stand the sciences, anything involving numbers really, because the boy is a tortured soul who can't really express his angst he is without a canvas or a pen and paper. The dark haired boy would probably skip class more, but he wouldn't want to let down his parents more than he already does so he sucks it up and barely passes every class except art and English.

He's been droning through Toronto since he moved here sophomore year, his real friend being the transgender kid he met in recreational gym. Of course, while Eli Goldsworthy would never judge Adam for his lesser parts, he had to admit the friend he made suited him. The two outcasts would never fit in, Eli being mental unstable and Adam being born in the body. Despite the large city, sometimes high school felt like they were the only two misfits in all of Canada. Sometimes this makes Eli angry, because he knows that assumption is wrong, but he can't stop this self pity and the depression that haunts him at night.

The green eyed boy moves to class, and he has to admit, it fucking sucks in these hallways. He goes unnoticed, but not entirely. He's been invited to parties and shit, but he never goes, because he's afraid of drinking and drugs and messing with his meds and his feelings with casual sex. Yeah, he's not a virgin, but he's only done it once and the girl cried and he literally felt himself go limp inside her when she told him he loved her. He guesses it was because she was crying for a couple minutes, but it was probably because he never really loved her as much as she loved him and felt bad. He wanted to have sex, make love to Julia, but a large part of him told him to wait but he didn't listen. At fourteen, it's hard when your girlfriend starts stripping. He had self control now, as a senior in high school, as shown through all previous rejections of sex, drugs and alcohol in the past 2 years. Eli likes to pretend it means his not completely invisible, but the invitation has nothing to do with being popular, it's really just Adam's brother, Drew, and all the parties the elder Torres throws.

This kid, this asshole, really, sits in the back of the class. He does this no matter the period, whether it's something he cares about or not. It's more to do with napping and seeing this girl that's been in his dreams lately. She's made up, but she's so beautiful and reoccurring and he has to admit, it's the only thing keeping him going sometimes. Most times, if he's being honest. He writes about her, most of his free writes in class are about this girl and her blue eyes, how only imagination could create something so perfect. He doesn't have casual sex, but he would fuck the living daylights out of his make pretend girl. And hold her, and watch her breathe. In his dreams they have the conversations he wouldn't have with anyone but her, even in his dreams. This girl his therapist, his sexual release, she's everything and she isn't real which sucks and shit.

His head is propped up with his hand, and this kid is listening, barely, to Mrs. Dawes as she talks about the chapters of Lolita they were supposed to read for homework last night. The class is supposed to being discussing it and Eli of course has great points to make, but his voice is too hoarse from not speaking all day. Not even Adam has asked him about his night or his dream, and Adam always makes small talk like that between class. Eli has been wondering a lot lately how sick his friend is of him, because Eli is sure he'd hate himself if he could befriend himself. Eli read Lolita about a year and a half ago, and he's kept it on his bed stand since, the book helping him sleep at night knowing there were people more fucked up than he in the world. Lolita is accompanied by Chuck Palahniulk novels and a couple of biographies on people he doesn't really care about.

Of course, the class arranges themselves in a semi circle, a Socratic seminar, and Eli doesn't speak at all. Mrs. Dawes actually has to call on him for him to read off his paper of questions, stuff that's been typed up for class. He rearranges the question in his head and poses it to the group, coughing a couple times before being loud enough where they can actually understand his raspy, underused voice. There's a knock on the door before Dawes can give him that look of disapproval, and she lets the discussion continue while she tends to whoever is there, and Eli only guesses it's Simpson, Degrassi's school principal.

Eli runs a hand through his hair at the conversation; it slowly dies so his fellow students can listen to the hushed whispers exchanged behind the slightly closed door. He has a lot to say about Lolita, but he's not going to fight to get his points across, especially since no one cares about what he has to say and his voice is making him self conscious, and he's already pretty self conscious as it is. The only person to ever not pass him a look of judgment is this fucking girl he made up to dream about and she's not even real so how pathetic does that make him? He sighs, slumping into his seat waiting for Dawes to return, and looks at the ground for her shoes to signal him to look attentive again. He should really care more about his performance in school, this dark haired boy notes to himself. Maybe he'll make it his New Year's resolution. It's only a month or so away, he figures. Caring more about school in the second semester of senior year doesn't really matter, but he figures it might make his parents happy.

Distracted again, the fuck up doesn't even notice three pairs of shoes come in. Dawes and her pair of Trotters, Simpson's loafers and a pair of black flats sneak in the room. His class peers kind of gasp, causing the Goldsworthy kid to break from his reverie, and look up at the three new beings in the room. And he sweats, fucking lord. This isn't happening.

She's here.

Is he fucking imagining this? This curly haired girl about his age stands beside Simpson with a small smile on her face, she's way too fucking perfect to be real. She's wearing a cute dress that cinches her waist to highlight her… well endowed chest and shows off just how petite she is. It falls just above the knee and Eli can feel himself drooling, despite the fact that he's seen this similar figure in so many of his dreams. He's begging the higher power he doesn't believe in for this girl to fucking make eye contact with him, to reveal herself.

"Why don't you tell the class who you are, Miss?" Simpson prompts, sensing the question in every teen mind in the classroom. Eli wonders if Simpson can hear him begging at this moment, but probably not. This is some sick joke; he's sleeping in class or something. Not real, this shit never happens to Elijah Goldsworthy, never.

She looks up, this girl, this fucking angel on earth, and he sees those blue eyes that have been haunting him for so many nights. Months worth of nights.

It's her.

"I'm Clare Edwards, I just transferred here from British Columbia."

It's the girl of his dreams, fucking literally.


	2. Chapter 2

**So it's short, yes. Okay, I'm totally guilty of rushing this, but I have the next chapter planned and it's like 3,200 some words already and I'm not done so I needed a filler chapter. Reminder that this is AU, and Clare and Eli are kind of, and I mean very, OOC. I'm sorry, I really am. But this is something that's been trapped in my head for like ever. I needed to write it. Hopefully Chapter 3 is up by... tomorrow, maybe? Like Saturday night at the latest. **

**Please give me a quick review, it really helps! Thanks for all the follows and favorites.**

**I don't own anything, except for a bunch of Nirvana CDs.**

* * *

"I'm Clare Edwards," this girl says, and Eli will swear to the god he doesn't believe in that she's a fucking angel. Her voice is so lovely his heart is pumping much too fast for this to be good for him. She's acting like she doesn't know him, which is fucked, because he dreams of her and now she's here and she's breathing and wearing a god damn dress, and of course she doesn't know him. But he wants her, he only knows her from what he's dreamed of, and now she's a real person and he can't stop wringing out his hands nervously. This is fucking happening, he's sure of it because he's wide awake and her eyes are piercing. She hasn't said much, but her blues look curiously at him, but it's probably because he's looking at her like she has five heads.

"Tell us a little about you, Clare," Dawes prompts, and Eli is anxious to hear the angel speak again, something that he can drill into his memory, or use to as a conversational device in the near future. He tries his hardest not to take notes on her, because she's real now, and he can see her again and it hasn't really hit him yet that she'll be in his English class.

"Well, I'm pretty much your run of the mill seventeen year old uprooted from a small town into a big city by a corporate dad. My mom passed away when I was like, eight, and my dad decided to move here so now I'm in Toronto, as you can tell," she gets a few laughs from the class as she does this curtsy thing, gesturing to herself. The way she bends lets Eli see her knees and he swears he's never felt so perverted yet so turned on all at once. Of course, some of these jock douchebags are looking at her like a piece of meat, none too differently than Eli, but they haven't dreamed of her and he could kill them all. He's bipolar, so he kind of has a couple I-can-be-irrationally-violent-and-get-away-with-it-cards up his sleeve.

"Why don't you take a seat in the circle next to Jake?" Dawes suggests, and Eli is wondering what the hell could be happening, his dream girl sitting next to someone else. This jealous shit watched her make way to her seat, greet the boy and place her rustic looking back on her desk. Covered in pins, all of them that Eli wanted to mesmerize, the bag displayed a piece of her. It was something you could see everyone studying her, and the beat up backpack on the desk looked like it was hand sewn, of scraps of t-shirts and blankets and such, pins decorating it and Eli could already tell she was some sort of artist. He was infatuated without even holding a conversation with her.

As she looked up, catching the eyes of her new peers, for a quick moment, Eli felt his breathe catch in his lungs, the girl looking at him, her eyes obviously picking up the strange nature of his stare. Raising her eyebrow curiously, Eli couldn't fucking breathe because she noticed him. Did she recognize him? Did she have dreams of him? Was this love? Her blue eyes are so deep and mesmerizing and this asshole can't even breathe because she's looking right at him. He'd rather suffocate than let her gaze travel elsewhere.

"We've been reading Lolita, Clare; have you ever read it before?" Dawes looks at her, but everyone can tell that the teacher doesn't really expect anything from her, and no one really knows why. But, Clare doesn't even blink, and her eyes transferring right to the older woman. Instead, she merely looked over at her, and Eli took a deep breath for the first time for what felt like weeks. He was wide awake, and this girl had some sort of power over him, it wasn't one that he was necessarily used to. But when she spoke everything felt fuzzy, like something warm.

"And she was mine, she was mine, the key was in my fist, my fist was in my pocket, she was mine," Clare spoke, her voice ringing in her ears. She looked down at her bag again and Eli watched his teacher and his classmates swoon over her, as her cheeks blazed a beautiful red. Fuck. She was so beautiful when she blushed and he felt like taking her away so no one could see her in this moment. It felt like some wave of possessiveness swept over him, something that he had no right to feel. Besides the fact that he basically dreamed of this girl and created her before knowing her, he really shouldn't feel this fucking weird.

But he did.

He wondered if she felt anything at all.

He wanted to speak with her so badly, wanted to hear her say his name, at least. So he waited for her outside the classroom, and there she was. The light wasn't necessarily the best and the room was stuffy, but there was no denying who she was. She was still the best thing he'd ever seen in person or in his dreams. She cocked her head at him, a motion that kind of read for him to leave her alone, and he almost ran the fuck away, this shit, but he watches her approach like some sort of movie sequence. He can't make out the song playing at the moment in the soundtrack, but he hears her soft hum and he can't stop staring.

"I don't know you," she says, eyeing him curiously, and Eli knows instantaneously that the girl is something completely different than Degrassi girls, or anyone he's ever met. She's not stating fact nor being blatantly rude about it. Instead Clare Edwards is humming, this beautiful girl is basically singing to him. He urges himself to calm down, because she's obviously not.

"What are you humming?" Eli pries, kind of, yet, completely desperate for the girl to talk to him. She speaks like an angel, even her hum makes him believe some God exists. She turns to him, and it's the first time she looks a bit angry. Like, not the kind of angry that Eli experiences without medicine, the kind of angry that makes Clare Edwards's face contort into a cute little pout. He probably shouldn't be thinking about how cute she is, but it's fucking impossible.

"I thought someone in your attire would appreciate my taste in music, but apparently you're all new age and shit, this is considerably disappointing," the blue eyed girl leans against the locker, and all the boy can even comprehend is that girl has thought of him somehow since she walked into his classroom. Would it be weird to say he dreamt of her now? Reveal she's been on his mind for much longer than she's even moved here?

He decides against it.

"Sorry to disappoint… Clara?" It's Clare, he fucking knows its Clare god damn Edwards, but he wants to seem like the type of asshole she's probably dated and he has picture of in his head.

"Smooth, its Clare," she laughs, and he knows the girl can see right through him. He's completely fucked, but it's alright as long as she keeps talking to him. "And it's Nirvana, don't be an ignorant punk kid; black band shirts and dark clothes only disguise you until everyone reforms you right up. It'll shame you never even knew good music." He feels a bit offended.

"I know Nirvana," he retorts. He liked Kurt Cobain, so that constituted him as a fan, right?

"Smells Like Teen Spirit doesn't count. Favorite album?"

"… Nevermind?"

"Classic, but also a cover up. You can't lie to a die hard," she explains and he feels lightheaded because who even listens to Nirvana but Clare Edwards and everyone else perfect?

"Do you have any other tips, Clare?" He wants to hold on to the moment, because this is the first time he's ever spoken his name, and he can taste lemon when he says it. Pushing her hair back with her hand, Eli watches the girl smile like she's expected him to interrogate her. She leans against the set of lockers, and he realizes he hasn't let her find her own yet. He's kind of an asshole, but he can't stop himself.

"Do you have a car?" Ouch, sour subject. He doesn't, and he doesn't want her to know why, and he doesn't want to lie to her in case she looks for it when she asks what type or whatever because he doesn't want to seem like a liar to Clare Edwards, girl of his dreams. Girl of his dreams quite literally. So instead, he rubs the spot between his brows and shakes his head.

"No, not really."

"Good. My dad gave me one as a pity present. You can teach me the ways of Toronto, can't you? I'll let you lie about your music taste," she laughs, and Eli promises to himself to keep that sound for the rainy days.

"Uh, okay?" But inside he's screaming just how fucking lucky he is.

"I'll meet you here at the end of the day," she smirks, leaving him there, and he breathes for what feels like the first time in months. His lungs feel sharp and fucking hurt and he watches the girl walk down the hall. Never in his life has he met someone like Clare Edwards. Never in his life had anyone challenged on exactly how punk he was, either.

Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

**It took longer than expected, but Chapter 3. If all goes as planned and I don't hit an incredible writers block, then what I do write I lose like I did this week, then I plan to have the next chapter up by the weekend. No exact date.**

**I love the reviews, follows and favorites! They're my favorite emails. **

**I don't own anything, but a MIKA CD. You'll understand.**

* * *

So, yeah Eli Goldsworthy sat in Media Immersion smiling like some dumbass the entire period. Clare Edwards, within a few minutes of talking to him decided Eli passed some sort of criteria and offered to give him a ride home. Him and her, alone, in a car, and Eli was fucking desperate. It wasn't that he had been dreaming of her for months, well it was, but this was different. Clare was a living, breathing human being, a beautiful girl and she was something he didn't expect. Clare was cool. Not like, jock and cheerleader cool with a time stamp on how long they'll last at the top of the food chain; Clare had this air to her that had some sort of longevity, like she was always and forever cool.

And of course, Eli felt this overwhelming need to impress her, make her laugh and shit. It was something he couldn't explain, but she easily picked the flaws in his appearance that should accord to his music taste. He'd grown from his dumb goth music, something his parents couldn't stand because it wasted CDs, and he was trying to be that kid everyone at least knew for a sense of music, but Clare saw right through his dumb skull. It was probably easy because she was obviously into the stuff he wished he was, so he spent most of Media Immersion looking up lesser known Nirvana songs. He liked it, and he could recognize why this girl would like them so much. They completely personified teen angst, teen's demons, or everyone's demons. He couldn't tell.

Of course the shit was desperate to get out of class, get out of school, meet Clare and hear her speak. Sit in the car alone with her, and get dropped off and jerk off. He was being honest here; he had enough material for the next couple years. She was unbelievably confident, something that Eli lacked, and it was breathtaking. The moment she walked into his English class, all eyes were on her, and it was something completely in the human in the way she seemed that she didn't care at all.

When the bell rang, this little shit bolted out the door, bumping into a few lost souls in the hallways in the process, one being his only friend, who had the (nonexistent) balls to stop him. No one said the kid was a saint, and when he was feeling anxious, anxious because Clare might be there already and leave when he didn't show up immediately. Because she was Clare fucking Edwards, why would she wait for Eli shit Goldsworthy?

"Hey, you're running awfully fast," Adam had this way of asking questions in the form of dumb fucking statements. It's not like he could ever be annoyed by Adam, because he was used to it, but Adam was awfully close to breaking his last nerve, if you caught his drift.

"Clare Edwards," Eli answered, as if it was a suitable response. It rolled off his tongue for the second time today, and it tasted sweet. He wondered momentarily what she tasted like.

"Hm? Is that the new girl?" Yes, it was the fucking new girl, and he had to go catch up with her right fucking now, to be exact.

"Yes, she offered to give me a ride home," Eli answered pointing and starting to walk away, he loves Adam, he truly does, but this girl is the girl of his dreams for all actualities. Adam smirks before Eli turns around completely; calling out something about bros before hoes, but Eli is too busy planning conversations in his head.

Before he knows it, and it probably has something to do with the fact that Degrassi isn't as intricate a school as he makes it out to be, but he's at the place the two agreed to meet. Surprise, surprise, Clare isn't here and he curses under his breath. "Fuck you, Adam."

"Hm?" It's a beautiful hum, one that he heard before, briefly, but he turns dramatically to see the petite Edwards girl behind him, running a hand through her short curls and the other rummaging through her bag. She pulls out a pair of somewhat dirty aviators, and rubs them off on his shirt.

"Hey," he accuses, smiling and letting out a small sigh of relief that she's here and she hasn't left yet.

"You don't mind, do you?" She's joking, he knows, and she puts on her aviators and smiles at the boy, laughing at the way he's staring at her. Of course, she can't really tell how infatuated Eli actually is, but she probably has a good guess. Eli even knows he's being obvious, and when she waves him forward with her hand, he knows damn well how much she knows. "This way, kid," she laughs, her hand in her bag again and pulling out a set of keys.

"What kind of car do you have?" Eli asks, because he wants to hear her voice forever, because he can't get enough.

"Does it really matter? It's a method of transportation a step up from walking," she tells him and Clare doesn't hold her hand to block her eyes from the sun as Eli does when the step outside, because she has those damn sunglasses he hates because he can't see her eyes.

"So it sucks?"

"Yeah, it fucking blows," she laughs, pointing out the junker that's flashing its lights when she hits the remote for her car. "Betsy's old too, whatever, I'll take whatever I can get, you know?" But it's funny because Eli doesn't sense that from Clare at all. She seems like the kind of girl who would never settle for something less than what she deserves. She throws her bag into the backseat and encourages Eli to do the same. "Do you smoke?" She asks, and he tells from the small twitch in her lips that she expects he doesn't. Which is kind of true, he used to, but since he started taking his meds, he stopped drinking, smoking cigarettes and pot. He didn't want anything to mess with the only things that keep him sane.

"Yeah, I do," he smirks, because fuck you Clare Edwards, he can smoke a cigarette just like you. Sitting in the car, the girl rolls down the window and reaches for her glove compartment, brushing his knees and he feels like he could die because it was his fucking knee. That's close to his dick and he prays to whatever the fuck in the sky that he doesn't get a boner, because that would be sad. And pathetic, the adjective he was really looking for was pathetic. The next thing he knows is Clare is handing him a cigarette, and he watches her light her own between her plump lips and she turns to light his, and he wishes he could see her eyes focus on the toxic stick.

"I started late last year," she admits, and he doesn't know why she bothers telling him because it's obvious she's much cooler than him no matter when she started. She presses play on the old radio and starts to reverse. "Do you know this song?" She asks, and he sees the same smirk he gave her moments before reflected on her cute little mouth. Of course he doesn't know it, so he shakes his head and she lets out a little laugh. "I pity you, I really do. This is Paper Cuts, by Nirvana, of course," she laughs again, as if the 'of course' is funny, which it probably is to her.

'_Let me in,'_ this fuck thinks, _'I want an inside joke with you_._'_

But she continues on, humming along and he can't really make out the words to the song. The cigarette burns his lung and keeps trying to swallow his spit every time he exhales to get rid of the urge to cough, because she's doing it so expertly. She's not driving that long before he notices her make a wrong turn and realize she's not going to his house to drop him off.

"Where are we going?" He asked, coughing slightly but tries to disguise it as clearing his throat. She laughs slightly and he wants to know what's so damn funny as she turns her head and blows smoke on his face. "Fuck! Seriously?"

"Seriously," she teased, obviously mocking him using a surfer accent and taking another long drag before continuing, "I don't know where we're going. You're supposed to be showing me around Toronto, remember? We're going on an adventure," she laughs, and he can't be mad because she's so cute and he wants to face palm himself for forgetting. It's not really his fault; she's clogging up his mind with everything she does. She has been since he pictured her in his first dream of Clare Edwards. Of course, he doesn't know where to take her than the Dot, because it was the only place in Toronto he had ever been. That strip was the most visited by his classmates, and he and Adam ate a lot at Little Miss Steaks,

"Uh, turn here," he was a horrible navigator, but somehow he got the two to a parking spot. Clare reached into her glove box again and pulled out two cigarettes, and grabbed her bag from the back seat, slipping them into the front pocket. He didn't know if she had grabbed one for him, because his lungs were on fire from the one he smoked in the car. He wanted to throw up, it hurt so bad, but she was slipping her sunglasses off and he knew throwing up would make her laugh and never want to be out with him again, and he hated not seeing those fucking eyes. He's been dreaming of them forever, and seeing them in person was better than any drug or drink he could remember. The little shit wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but he held back.

"This looks like the place all the teens go," she said, wearily.

"Yeah," he agrees awkwardly, "I thought you wanted to know where the hot spots were in Toronto. For Degrassi, this is pretty much it," he's not used to talking so much since no one besides Adam has ever noticed him. Talking is strange, he thinks, but he watches as she walks on the curb of the crosswalk, and he's never seen a more graceful thing. "Have you ever danced before?" She laughs slightly before tilting her head to this dumb fuck and nods.

"Is there a record store around here?" Clare asks, and he nods back.

"It's a block or two away," and it's getting dark and his dad is probably working. He doesn't tell her that his dad happens to own the record store, but he hopes his dad doesn't make a show when he comes in.

"What are you waiting for, then? Show me the way," she laughs, lighting a cigarette and walking down the street beside the boy. She's so fucking strange, he can't help but note, but he can't take his eyes off her because in the second she did, she managed to get her bag and find one of the cigarettes she put there earlier.

"Aren't you 17?" He asks, slightly confused on how she even gets cigarettes.

"Fake ID," Clare tells him, exhaling a long drag. Even smoking, she looks beautiful. They walk in silence until they get to the store, and Clare notes softly that it is somewhat vintage. Eli smirks to himself, because he knows that's exactly what his dad was looking for. Vintage. The bell rings when they enter and this asshole sees his dad working the cash register and doesn't even look at him. It takes the big man to look up and see his son for Eli to acknowledge him.

"Kiddo!" Bullfrog booms, laughing heartily at the sight of his son and a girl.

Eli turns a deep red in embarrassment and hates everything for a moment, cursing repeatedly under his breath. "Bullfrog," he manages, through grit teeth. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Clare giggling at the odd interaction, and Eli blushes deeper. This is his worst nightmare, it turns out. His dream girl and his dad are laughing at him, and he hates every minute of it.

"Who's the girl?" Bullfrog is looking at Clare now, and making a point of holding his hand out to her, expecting her to introduce herself. Clare took his hand smiling brightly, for the first time since Eli saw her, and Eli can't look away.

"I'm Clare, Clare Edwards. I'm new in Toronto; this punk was just showing me the coolest record store in town. That's verbatim," she jokes and the dumb shit can see how much his dad loves this girl already, as he's laughing heartily at her joke.

"My son, a punk? Ha!" He and Clare are laughing and Eli feels left out, like his dad is clicking better with Clare. Fuck, damn it. "What are you looking for Clare?"

"I lost my In Utero album in the packing mess, I need a replacement," she shrugs and his dad is beaming. Fuck! Does everyone know Nirvana except him?

* * *

"I'll take good care of him, I promise," Clare is laughing again, waving to Bullfrog who's behind the register again. "Time to go home, kiddo," she jokes, and Eli still can't get over how well she and Bullfrog bonded. He probably loved her more than Eli, but that was fairly easy, since Clare was perfect and Eli was, well, Eli.

The shit notices the girl shivering, and feels this is a moment to cherish, shrugging off his leather jacket and passing it to the girl. She looks at him, narrowing her eyes and taking it hesitantly. "This is awfully gentlemanly." She notes aloud, but he just nods, and he can't believe how good she looks in her jacket. Forget everything he said about being cool, because he never even had an idea what cool was until now. "Let's sit," she gestures to a bench and Eli can't help it, he'll do whatever she says. They sit and Eli wants to sit closer to her, and she pulls a walkman out of her bag.

"Who the fuck owns a walkman?" Eli asks, because who the fuck owns a walkman anymore.

"I do, obviously," she laughs, putting her newly bought In Utero CD in and offering Eli a headphone. The two sit in silence until he can hear Clare singing along softly with the song. He's almost afraid to break her trance, but he can't help but chuckle at how the music seems to be her anchor. She shoots him a glare, "Shut up, I know my singing is awful, asshole."

"No, you're good."

"Like you're any better," she accused; her sight narrow.

"I bet I am," he laughed, and he felt the lightness from her touching him.

"Okay, prove it. I dare you."

"Dare me to what?"

"I dare you to sing, at the top of your lungs," she's laughing because he knows he won't but he wants to prove her wrong. Impressing her is the goal of today anyway.

"Fine," he laughed. But he didn't know what to sing, and he felt dumb, but he stood up anyways. He just started to sing the first thing he could think of, and hoped no one would laugh but they probably would.

'_I could be brown, I could be blue, I could be violet sky, I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could be anything you like!'_

Little did he know, the girl on the bench behind him was laughing so hard she had nearly fell off, strangers on passing by were laughing as well. Blushing, the gullible shit fumed at the girl, "Hey, your turn."

"Nah, it's not really my style, Grace Kelly," Clare wiped the tears that were forming in the corner of her eyes, her smile so beautiful and light he couldn't be mad he just wanted to kiss her, he just wanted to hold her and kiss her until they both stopped breathing.

"Come on!" He teased, running for her and cornering her against a light post. His hands were on the sides of her head and he could kiss her right now, the two laughing and breathing somewhat heavily. Eli's felt lightheaded; he was so, so close to her and he just wanted her so, so desperately. He just needed to lean in…

His eyes closed, he had no idea how she got away from him but she did. Turning around, the two made eye contact; the girl pushing her hair back with her hand and biting her lip awkwardly, and the asshole looking at his feet then back up to study her. It was way too soon to fucking kiss her, he messed everything up. Fuck, fuck god damn he would. Eli shit Goldsworthy reporting for duty. It was horrible, it was, but Clare laughed and Eli felt a churn in his stomach like he was going to throw up.

"Come on, I better get you home," and there was this terrible feeling of dread when Clare spoke. Was this it? The last time they would see each other? "I promised your dad, punk. Come on!" She laughed and the churning stopped momentarily. Maybe they just wouldn't talk about it, maybe which was for the best.

The walk to the car was silent, but Eli couldn't help but watch this curly haired girl on the curb of the sidewalk, the way she walked in perfect balance, one foot in front of the other, and her hands in the pockets of his leather jacket which she donned. She was the kind of beauty you didn't dare question, and most people would be afraid of. She was beautiful to all people, but especially to Eli. He'd been dreaming of this exact girl, from the color of her hair to how tall she was, to the color of her eyes and the freckles on her cheeks. She was perfectly pale, perfectly Clare. There was no better name for her, he probably couldn't dream of a better name which is why she went unnamed for so long. Eli hoped desperately this wasn't a dream, because Clare Edwards was better than he could've dreamed.

The car ride was silent, besides the blaring Nirvana the girl played and the smoke she would occasionally breathe in his direction. Was it too stupid that this shit wanted to know everything about her? Her fuck ups, if she had any, her dreams and so on. He wanted to her and kiss her and hold her and this was a downward spiral. He watched her drive in his jacket and he wanted her to keep it, so he would be with her in a way. He felt sick over the infatuation he had formed, but it was inertia. He dreamed of her, for fuck's sake.

"Uh, yeah, turn here," he was once again reminded of how bad he was at directions when he spoke up and lead her to his house. She nodded, and tossed the butt of her cigarette out the window, following the poorly constructed directions to his house, pulling up in front of it. "Thank you, uh, for the ride and stuff. Today was fun," he said awkwardly, the last thing on his mind was saying goodbye to her. His one opportunity to woo her, and he missed it, fuck.

"No problem, Grace Kelly," she laughed, her hand pushing back the stray curls in front of her face, and all Eli could do was wish that he could do that for her.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Guess you will," she smiles, and he wants to die. He gets out of the car, slowly, and she makes no motion to return the leather jacket. That's a win on his part, right? Just as he shuts the door, Clare rolls the window down, smiling widely. "Grace Kelly! You never told me your name, dumbass." Wow, he really is a fucking dumbass.

"Eli, Eli Goldsworthy."

"Well, bye then, Eli Goldsworthy. See you in English."


End file.
